


Greatest Hits

by roughnscruff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Counselor Derek, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Multiple, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughnscruff/pseuds/roughnscruff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A punch in the gut, some black round the eye,<br/>There’s red from my lips, and I’m asking “God why?”<br/>There’s a bump on my head, and a hole in my heart;<br/>If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that these are my<br/>Greatest Hits</p><p>Stiles is finally able to start healing from an abusive relationship after his new guidance counselor Mr. Hale swoops in and saves the day, but things start to get a little complicated afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so here's my first big foray into the world of fanfiction, yay! I went ahead and rated it E because you never know.

“Stiles! Get up you’re going to be late!” A few minutes passed and Stiles didn’t move an inch. He wasn’t ready to face the day yet; not ready to face his life.

“Stiles!” his dad yelled again.

“Yea dad! I’m getting dressed right now!” Stiles lay still for another moment before trying to move.  His ribs stung as he rolled over in bed and stared at his desk and his backpack hanging on the desk chair.

 _It’s now or never,_ he thought and sat up, breathing in sharply as his ribs compressed with the movement. The injury was worse than he thought. _Fucking "lacrosse" practice._

Stiles pulled on his most comfortable jeans, a standard flannel, and an extra baggy zip-up before checking his phone. No messages or missed calls from Scott, as was the normal over the last six months.  He was still pissed at Scott. Well pissed wasn’t exactly the right word. He was more _upset_ and than anything else. Scott never came to see Stiles of his own accord anymore, only when they met for monthly dinner with their parents. He was too wrapped up in Allison. It’s not that Stiles didn’t like Allison, because he does, but she’s taken his one real friend away and now Stiles is alone. _Well, usually,_ he thought bitterly.

Stiles shrugged his backpack over the shoulder of his less injured side and ran down the stairs and almost directly into his father.

“Hey dad, see I told you I was getting ready! I’m just going to go ahead and get to school now, you know learning and all that other important social ladder climbing business school’s supposed to teach us. Getting friendly with our peers, blah blah blah...” Stiles grabbed a poptart, frosted blueberry, as he darted through the kitchen on his way to the door. His father gave him a very “Sheriff” look and shook his head while he watched his son flail out into the world.

 

School was typical. Stiles was halfway through his junior year, homework was annoying, but nothing too difficult, and everyone ignored him. He liked the routine of it, honestly. Wake up, four classes, lunch, three classes, session, lacrosse, and then depending on his dad’s schedule he’d go out or come home and start on dinner. It worked; wasn’t a high school experience that anyone would make a movie about, but it worked.

During lunch Stiles sat off to the side of the cafeteria where the other kids who either weren’t seen or didn’t want to be seen congregated and watched Scott and Allison, Lydia and Aiden, Danny and Ethan. He sighed and wished he could be a part of that, but Drew would never have…

_No, don’t,_ Stiles reminds himself, as he glances toward the lacrosse team, the majority of them sitting together. _Stop,_ he thinks but he looks anyway, and there he is, laughing along with the rest of them.

 

Stiles fidgeted in the plushest chair, his normal seat in the counseling office, and waited for Ms. Morrell's arrival. Ms. Morrell was hardly ever late so it always made Stiles anxious when she was. It shouldn’t have though, and he knew that. She was probably just speaking with another student or taking care of some business with the principal, but Stiles could never stop the thoughts that something was terribly wrong from taking over. Ever since she’d taken him out of class all those years ago to break the news about mom, he’d always worried when she ran late.

Stiles heard the _click click_ of her heels on the tile floor seconds before the door opened and she fixed an apologetic smile on him. She was wearing her best today, a dark green pencil skirt and flowing blouse that accentuated all the right areas, not that Stiles was looking at her areas. _Jesus, snap out of it,_ Stiles shook his head to clear the thoughts.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry I kept you waiting.” She said as she placed her briefcase on her desk and sat down across from him. “I was giving a tour of the school and we ran a little over.” Ms. Morrell laced her fingers together and gave Stiles a once over. “How are you today?”

Stiles finally let out a sigh of relief. “I’m doing fine, I guess.” He said and fiddled with the zipper on his jacket; he’d already bitten his nails to the quick while he waited.

“Stiles, you know ‘fine’ isn’t what I like to hear…” Ms. Morrell chastised, but she let it slide and moved on, smiling slightly. “Do you have something coming up that’s making you nervous? You seem very invested in that zipper.”

Stiles barked out a ragged laugh and sat on his hands.

“No. I’m just nervous about the upcoming lacrosse match. It’s going to be a tough one.” Stiles lied. Ms Morrell squinted at him and Stiles looked past her out the window trying to look sincere. Suddenly Stiles needed to be out of her office, away from her all-seeing eyes.

“Unless we need to talk about anything else can I go ahead to practice?” Stiles was ready to be moving, and not stuck in his seat with her eyes searching his squirming frame for clues as to what was wrong with his life.

Ms. Morrell smiled curtly, like she didn’t believe him. _Of course she doesn't believe you, you're a terrible liar._  Frankly, Stiles didn’t care if his lie had been convincing or not, so long as she let him go.

“Alright. You can go ahead.” she said.

Stiles jumped up and grabbed his bag from beside his chair and made a B-line for the door. “Oh and Stiles?” Stiles halted with his hand on the door handle and didn’t turn to look at her, not trusting himself to keep the façade for much longer.

“Yea?” he croaked out.

“Good luck on your lacrosse match.”

Stiles nodded and pushed through the door.  He made his way through the nearly empty hallways of the school on his way to the locker room. He really did have lacrosse practice, not that he’d actually get to play, or even practice for that matter. Coach Finnstock never really let him do much of anything.

 

He pushed into the smelly locker room and sat down in front of his locker. Stiles just wanted some alone time, the irony of that predicament wasn’t lost to him either. _Funny how the kid who that's almost perpetually alone_ _wants to be away from everyone._ Stiles sighed, he had a pretty fucked up life. He leaned forward and let his head fall into his hands.

The locker room door swung open and Stiles listened as one of his teammates, if he could really even call them that since he never played, _whatever,_ walked to their locker on the row behind him. Stiles sat quietly and hoped whoever it was didn’t head his way.

Of course, luck was not on Stiles’ side, and he could swear he lost brain matter due to the most extreme sneeze he’d had in recent memory. The other guy walked around to look at Stiles. _Oh hell._ Stiles swore under his breath and shook his head before he looked up at him fully.

Drew smirked. “Oh Stiles, what are you doing here so early? Did you wanna get a little _practice_ in before the others got here?” Drew took a few steps toward him and Stiles reflexively scooted farther along the bench, away from him.

“Oh dear,” Drew ticked and sat down beside Stiles, placing a hand high on his thigh, “Did you not want to see me? I thought you still liked me Stiles.”

Stiles shivered a bit at Drew’s touch. He wanted nothing more than to be back in Ms. Morrell’s office spilling everything, despite the humiliation it would bring him.

“No, uh, I’m glad you’re here.” Stiles stammered, sounding more he was asking a question, and dammit if this wasn’t going to end badly.

Drew smiled and removed his hand from Stiles’ thigh to wrap it around his torso instead. Stiles winced a bit and Drew seemed to latch onto that little bit of pain like a ship looking for a lighthouse in the middle of a freaking hurricane. He smiled and he dug his fingers into the slots between Stiles’ ribs and grinned as Stiles squirmed in pain against him.

“Still sore from our last _practice_ , Stilinski?”

Stiles wasn’t very violent by nature but he wanted to beat Drew into a pulp, or at least pay good money to have someone else do it.

“No, no…I’m fine, fit as a fiddle.” Stiles gasped out while Drew dug his fingers around his ribs some more.

 _Dammit why can’t you just tell someone?_  Stiles felt a tear run down his cheek and moved to wipe it away, but Drew’s hand was already gripping Stiles’ chin, examining the tear as it made its way down Stiles’ face. “What did I tell you about that sissy shit?” Drew hissed.

Stiles expected it, but the slap still stung like hell. He grabbed at his face, instinctually attempting to protect it from any further harm. Drew stood up and walked back to his locker.

“We’ll have some more fun later, Stilinski.” he called behind him.

Stiles sat in silence, seething and crying silently for a few minutes while others started to trickle in. Drew finished prepping for practice and headed for the door. “See you losers on the field!” he called and winked specifically for Stiles’ supposed enjoyment. Stiles shivered and wiped his eyes before standing and putting on his lacrosse kit.

_Fuck my life._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek's not in this chapter but we'll see him soon enough. Promise! ;)
> 
> I have a LOT planned for this story, but it's going to be an extreme WIP, especially with my last two semesters of undergrad work starting in less than a month. (Hopefully I'll have lots written up before then!)
> 
> If you like it and want to keep this fic going then send me lots of encouragement because school will suck the life out of me when it starts, but I promise if you bug me enough I'll keep writing as fast as I can!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr. My url is roughnscruff there as well. I'd love to hear what you think and we can definitely be friends!
> 
> Peace out.


	2. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected to get so much positive feedback after only one chapter, especially when I posted it at like 3am my time. You guys are awesome!
> 
> This could get triggery, just a warning!

“Bilinski! What the _hell_ are you doing?” Coach yells.

Stiles startles and blinks around. Everyone else is already on the field and running their sprints, while Stiles has continued to sit on the bench after their pre-practice prep talk.

“Sorry, Coach. I’m just not really feeling all that well. Think I ate a bad burrito or something.” Stiles grabs at his stomach and puts a grimace on his face. The movement does hurt, just not from bad beans and beef.

Finstock throws his arms in the air and turns back to the field, muttering about burritos and what sounds like his love life and _ew._ Stiles gags and files Coach’s comments away under “Never think of ever again.”

Stiles’ mind drifts as he watches the others run drills and just be all-around better at physical coordination than he’s ever thought about being. He can’t help it when he starts to eye Drew and Stiles wishes he could look away.

 _You’ve really fucked up Stilinski_ , he thinks to himself. _You had to latch onto the first person to take interest in you after Scott bailed, didn’t you? You big doof._  

Stiles thinks back to the beginning of the year and remembers what started this whole mess. The arrival of Allison Argent.

*************************************

  
“Dude, who’s _that?_ ” Scott nudges Stiles with his elbow. He turns to watch the brunette, a new girl, walk down the hall and past them. She flicks her hair like a movie star just as she passes them and Stiles has to admit that takes a bit of grace and style to pull off.

“I don’t know, _dude,_ ” Stiles mimics Scott’s overuse of the word mercilessly, but Scott isn’t paying any attention to Stiles. “Am I the new kid whisperer?” Stiles continues on as he turns back to rigging his locker, “No, why should I know who everyone is anyway? The gods have not graced me with knowledge of all things, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Stiles slams his locker and pulls it open several times to make sure the rigging with stay before he turns back to Scott.

“I mean it would be cool if they—Scott?” Stiles calls but Scott is out of earshot and talking to the new girl. Stiles has to admit Scott’s grown some balls over the summer, or his acne has cleared up and given him a new found confidence, same thing really.

Stiles sighs and waves at Lydia Martin, darling of his life, as she passes by. Of course she completely ignores Stiles and heads, _Oh look who would’ve ever guessed, nope not me, that’d be too easy,_ straight toward the new girl and of course they’re going to be the best of friends.

 _Whatever, I’m going to class._ Stiles hefts his backpack up, hands on there respective straps and walks to class.

 

In the week since Allison Argent’s arrival in Beacon Hills Stiles has seen Scott twice outside of school. For whatever reason Allison finds Scott endearing and has asked him to “ _Chill, Stiles! She said she wants to chill with me how cool is that? Oh my God, Stiles, I think she likes me!”_

 _Yea that’s awesome and all but what about us “chilling.”_ Stiles doesn’t voice his concern to Scott though and after another week he’s only seeing him at school.

 

“Dude, hey Stiles-“ Scott picks up on the third ring.

“Hey buddy, are we gonna-“ Stiles starts to say.

“Sorry but I’ve gotta go I’m with-“

“Allison, yea, sure. Have fun.” Stiles hung up and tried his hardest not to cry.

He didn’t try hard enough.

 

After a month Stiles had given up trying to pull Scott away from Allison. It’s not really worth it. The few times he’s been able to pull him away all Scott can talk about is Allison. The last time they’d hung out Stiles had, in a hit of internal rage, pretended to be sick and left Scott’s after only an hour. Scott hadn’t even called to make sure Stiles was fine the next day or asked at school.

So Stiles took to sitting alone during lunch. Well, he wasn’t totally alone, there were others this far from the center of attention. He even knew a few of their names, like Boyd, the big surly guy who worked at the ice rink. Erica Reyes sat nearby too; Stiles had held her head once in 6th grade while she seized on the blacktop at recess. Then there was Isaac Lahey; Stiles didn’t know much about him, other than the kid was skittish.

Somehow, as an act of God, Stiles made it onto the lacrosse team. He and Scott had both tried out during the summer off-season tryouts as something fun and new. Scott hadn’t made the cut, and Stiles wasn’t surprised about that, the kid could barely walk up two flights of stairs without the help of his inhaler.

Stiles showed up for his first practice excited, _Aw yeah I’m gonna get in good with some of these guys, they need someone smart, someone funny, well look no further because Stiles Stilinski has arrived, boys._

After practice Stiles knew that making the lacrosse team had actually been a cruel joke on God’s part and that it was going to suck as much, if not worse, than Scott’s dismissal. His legs burned. His chest burned. He smelled like grass. He could _taste_ grass. He’d made the most god awful joke straight away, and no one liked him.

He was pulling off his kit haphazardly and contemplating never doing anything ever again when this not-unattractive guy wandered into Stiles’ space and sat down next to him. 

“Hey, I’m Drew,” not-unattractive guy said, “and that joke you made, I actually thought it was funny.”

“Um, huh?” Stiles managed. 

Not-unattractive guy, _Drew, Stiles, use the guys real name,_ laughed and wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, and what? Had that really just happened? Stiles looked at both shoulders to confirm that yes, it had happened.

“Why don’t you stick around awhile after the other guys leave and I’ll help you with your aim?” Drew offered. Stiles gaped a second before nodding in the affirmative. 

“Cool.” Drew stood and walked back to his locker and left Stiles giddy that he’d made a friend, and a not-unattractive friend at that.

Stiles honestly didn’t expect extra practice with Drew to have ended like, well, like _that._ Drew sat with Stiles for the better part of an hour, asking questions and answering in turn. He was easy to talk to and Stiles was so glad for that, he blabbed on and on about his lack of any other friends and Drew listened attentively.

When Stiles noticed the clock above Coach’s office it was nearly six and he jumped up as he remembered he was supposed to be making dinner, and voiced his reasoning. Drew stood beside him and grabbed Stiles’ shoulder to pull him back as he made way toward the door. 

“You’ve got at least one friend now.” Drew eyed Stiles for a second before surging forward to clash their lips together. Stiles pulled back for a second before pushing back into the kiss. It didn’t last long, but it left Stiles stunned and speechless as Drew grabbed his bag, swatted Stiles on the ass and walked out of the locker room.

*************************************

 

The end of practice pulls Stiles from his flashbacks and he heads inside with the rest of the team. He lingers around the locker room, taking his time getting changed and looks around for Drew before he decides to leave. He’s already left, so Stiles pulls his backpack from his locker and swings his keys as he walks to the Jeep.

Most of the other guys park close to the field house _because_ of practice, but Stiles parks on the other side of campus, near the office and counseling center for the exact same reason. He doesn’t want them doing anything to his Jeep, which he knows they would; he’s the worst guy on the team.

He’s kicking at rocks on the pavement and doesn’t see Drew propped against the hood until it’s too late to run the other way.

“Stilinski, how nice to see you again so soon.” Drew smiles and spreads his arms wide. The movement used to be welcoming, but now it’s become a taunt. " _What are you going to do about it?"_ Stiles stops ten feet away.

“Hey, Drew.” He mutters quietly, eyes down.

“Why don’t you come over here? I’ve missed you.” Stiles knows it’s not a suggestion, it’s a command. He reluctantly walks closer but stops just within arms reach of Drew. He’s tired of this shit, but he doesn’t know what he can do. He’s alone, everyone else is already gone or on the other side of campus. Stiles realizes just how bad of a spot he’s in. He winces when Drew pulls him closer roughly.

“You haven't stuck around after practice much, so why don’t you make it up to me?” Drew wears a mask like he’s hurt instead of just the sadistic bastard Stiles really knows is underneath. Drew raises his eyebrows and pushes Stiles’ shoulders down, trying to force him to his knees. 

 _No, fuck this!_ Stiles throws a punch and hits Drew square in the jaw. It barely fazes the larger boy and Stiles is falling, pushed to the ground. His head hits hard on the pavement and everything swims in his vision dizzyingly. 

“Drew please! I’m sorry!” Stiles screams. He doesn’t yell. He screams. Stiles has this distinction in his head about yelling and screaming. Yelling is forceful, powerful. Screaming is weak, defenseless. _Just like me._

“I’ll show you sorry you piece of shit!”

Drew’s first kick hits Stiles’ ribs from the front as he scrambles upward on hands and knees. The shock sends him sprawling to the pavement again and he knows he’s going to have bruises; on his ribs, his legs, his arms, his face, he’ll be a walking bruise by the time Drew is done with him. 

Drew kicks him again before Stiles is being pulled up by the front of his shirt. He doesn’t even have to look to know that Drew’s fist is pulled back, aimed right for his face. He shuts his eyes tight and waits. Stiles thinks he hears tires squealing somewhere nearby. _Fucking cars are mocking me._

“Get the hell away from him!”

Suddenly Drew is gone, and Stiles is falling back to the pavement. He pulls his arms tight around his head before he hits and opens his eyes, blinking away tears to see more clearly the body behind the mystery voice.

He sits up as the other man watches Drew run around the side of the school building. Then he turns to Stiles.

“Are you okay?” concern is etched across his chiseled features and Stiles will laugh later, when he recalls this night in the future, about the halo of light coming from the light across the street that surrounds him.

Stiles scrambles to his feet and wipes tears from his eyes, darting to the Jeep and fumbling for a minute before he finally gets the door open. The other man is standing there, watching him curiously.

Stiles pulls away onto the road and heads home. 

 

His dad’s cruiser isn’t in the drive when Stiles pulls in and that is more than Stiles could have hoped for. Stiles already has a plan. He’s going to eat a hot pocket, take a shower and then feign being exhausted and hole himself away in his room. 

He winces as the hot water hits his ribs and starts to think. _I’m going to Ms. Morrell tomorrow and I’m telling her. Straight away. I’m not even going to bother until our session, that’s too much time for something to go wrong. For him to find me, get me alone. Nope, fuck that. I’m doing this, mom, I’m doing it._

He doesn’t know when he started crying or when he started talking to his mom, but it opens another tear in his chest and he cries even harder. He slumped down in the shower and cried until the water was unbearably cold before getting out and gingerly pulling clothes on and sliding into bed.

He passes out in two minutes flat, exhausted and bruised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh who's the mystery man!? :)
> 
> Sorry this is mostly a flashback chapter. It must be done. But we got some classic Stiles/Scott banter! And we got to see Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. (I have this headcanon that Stiles held Erica down during a seizure in elementary school and that's why she's always had a crush on him, because he took care of her. Okay now I'm crying.)
> 
> I love hearing what you guys think, so keep it coming!


	3. Stiles

Stiles stares at the ground between his feet and the door, takes a deep breath and pushes his way inside.

“Okay, so you know how yesterday you asked if something was wrong?” Stiles starts as soon as he’s inside the room. He keeps his eyes down out of embarrassment. “Well about that-” Stiles looks up and stops short.

He walks back out of the door, looks at the sign above it to make sure he’s in the right room and then walks back in.

They speak at the same time.

“You must be Isaac.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Wait- what?”

“No, I’m Stiles, and what the hell are you wearing?”

The man, _guy really, he doesn’t look much older than me,_ looks down at himself self-consciously.

“Um, clothes?”

“Well, I’m just asking because yesterday you looked like a badass when you swooped in and saved me.” Stiles comments, giving the guys tight khaki’s and tucked in button-down with rolled sleeves a lingering stare. “I mean you were like, clad in leather, now you look like something out of a J. Crew catalog.” It’s not a bad look, just, huh.

After he finishes placing the frame he’s holding and straightens it on the shelf behind the desk he pulls his chair out and sits down, motioning for Stiles to sit. “Is that what you wanted to tell Ms. Morrell about? Your _incident?_ ” 

“Maybe,” Stiles allows as he sits, “it’s not like I’m going to tell you though. What are you even doing in here?” 

“I’m the new counselor.” He says, and fidgets. It looks like he can’t decide what the best position to look older and informed is and Stiles tries very hard not to laugh straight in his face.

“Yea, right, _sure_ …” Stiles rolls his eyes but then the guy points to the frame he was fixing a moment ago. Stiles leans forward to read more easily, _“The New York University Silver School of Social Work recognizes satisfactory completion in the program: Masters of Social Work, by: Derek Hale, Class of 2013.”_

“Wait- what?” Stiles mimicks Derek’s earlier query. Dereks sighs and begins to explain.

“I graduated this last spring. My sister moved back into town about a month ago and heard from her contractor that the school was looking for a second counselor. I’ll be under Ms. Morrell’s guidance the rest of this semester while she takes a much-needed vacation.”

Stiles nods and squints like he’s trying to see through the bullshit but Derek seems truthful enough. _Well this just got like a million times more awkward and confusing._ Stiles contemplates for his options for a moment. On one hand this is the guy who saved him from Drew yesterday, and on the other hand he knows absolutely nothing about him other than his name, where he went to school, and that he can’t find a job without his sister.

“Wait did you say your sister moved _back?_ As in you used to live here?”

Derek nods, “Yes.” The nod is tight and the response sounds strained. Stiles knows for sure now.

“I’m sorry, man…about that.” Stiles tries not to sound too _poor pitiful you,_ but it still comes out that way.

Derek looks past him for a second, it’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off of Stiles since he sat down across from him. The movement makes his green eyes look blue. Stiles looks away when he realizes he might be staring.

“Let’s talk about your problem, shall we?” Derek says much more cheerfully than the occasion demands but whatever, Stiles had just apologized for the whole guy’s family burning alive and it wasn’t even his fault. His own abuse did seem to pale in comparison, Stiles had to admit.

Stiles decided to go for it. The guy had already saved him from Drew once. He knew about it and that was a step farther than anyone else had gotten. Plus he was incredibly built and looked like he may not be opposed to beating guys into pulp for money. _Maybe not in this outfit, but the other one, sure._ His arms bulged underneath the tightly rolled sleeves in a ridiculously attractive way and _nope,_ Stiles was omitting that thought from his mind.

“One last question, first?” Stiles ventures. 

Derek nods, “Okay.”

“How old are you?” The thought had been bouncing around in the back of his mind since he made the connection about Derek’s origins and his Masters degree. Stiles knew it usually took 6 years to get one of those, but he remembered that Derek’s sister was older and graduated the same year as the fire. Stiles couldn’t get his mind around it. 

“I’m 21,” Derek laughs lightly. Stiles’ mouth drops open before he can stop it. Derek’s only four years older than him and has a degree and what. Stiles’ brain is malfunctioning. Derek continues as though he knows they won’t make any progress until he gives Stiles all the details.

“I started school early, so I was a year younger than my peers to start. Laura, my sister, graduated a month before the fire.” Derek looks pained at remembering and Stiles decides to never bring it up again unless necessary. “I was going to be a junior that fall, but I got my GED and we settled down in New York,” _basically as far from Beacon Hills as you can get without hopping borders,_ Stiles thinks, “I had already taken the SAT and scored high enough to be accepted to NYU that spring and opt out of a few classes. I went eighteen hours nonstop during the spring and fall and went for fifteen hours two summers and graduated in three years.” Derek shifts in his chair before continuing. “I graduated after fall semester and started my graduate studies that spring. They let me go during the summer semester as well, so I graduated in only a year and a half.”

Derek waits patiently as Stiles processes. If he were being honest Stiles would have to admit that he got lost around the time Derek mentioned the SAT and gave up trying to understand how college works altogether.

“So you’re _only_ four years older than me?” Stiles blurts and Derek chuckles. He seems to think a minute.

“You’re seventeen?” Stiles nods. “When’s your birthday?”

“Uh, October 18th?” Stiles flubs, not seeing the point. _He’s only 4 year older than me._  

“How about four years and 10 months, give or take a week?” Derek smiles, “I’ll be twenty-two the 6th of December.”

 _Alright, that makes more sense, he’s almost five years older than me._ Stiles hates calendars, they confuse him, mostly. 

“Now, how about we discuss that guy I chased off?” Derek says, and his features somber dramatically.

___________________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Derek Hale, J. Crew model, inspired by the above ridiculously attractive picture. He's even on the worn leather couch so stereotypical of counseling offices, for Christ's sake! Ah, Tyler...
> 
> Anyway, at the moment I'm posting chapters as soon as I've done a once over for errors, literally like 5 minutes after I finish writing them. When school starts back I'll establish some sort of posting schedule and chapters will probably get longer?
> 
> Glad you guys still like this. Stop by roughnscruff.tumblr.com sometime to say hi and look at all the pretty things I reblog. (Mostly those things are Dylan/Stiles and Tyler/Derek related.)


	4. Stiles

“You’re kind of dramatic when you try to be serious.” Stiles rolls his eyes and settles down into the chair. He knows this could be a long talk. “What do you want to discuss?”

Derek stood up from behind the desk and walked to Stiles, he pulled Stiles’ chair to face him as he sat in the one next to it, elbows going to his knees and hands supporting his head as he gave Stiles his full attention. “Why don’t we start with why he was trying to beat the shit out of you?”

“Are you allowed to say those sort of things around students?” Stiles asked, taken aback a bit. Derek quirked his head to the side.

“What sort of things? Like the fact that some guy was trying to beat the shit out of you?”

“No, although, yea he was. You know, like cussing? Aren’t you supposed to set a perfect standard for us so we don’t become fuck ups?”

Derek smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Stiles, you just said fuck to a faculty member and all he did was roll his eyes. I’m pretty sure I can say shit and you won’t go telling on me.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, fixing Stiles with a hard look. “You’re trying to deflect the question.”

 _Well there goes that plan._ Stiles was still a little unwilling to talk about it. Actually, he hadn’t even really thought about what he would say had started it all. He probably would have told Ms. Morrell that Drew was just being an asshole, and leave out the whole sexual part to save himself some embarrassment. Stiles had a feeling that wouldn’t work with Derek.

“Alright, alright. It all started when Scott started having AA meetings.” Stiles manages. Derek leans forward again, listening intently.

“Who’s Scott?”

“He is, was, I don’t know, my best friend.”

“And Scott’s an alcoholic?”

“Um, what no? Sorry, I’ve gotten so used to thinking that. Allison Argent meetings. They’re dating.”

Derek’s brow furrows tremendously. “Argent?”

“Yea, she’s a new girl this year. Came in from out of state. Anyway, Scott and Allison started dating and he kind of left me behind in the dust. So I sort of turned to Drew. Well actually, Drew kind of picked me out, I guess?”

Stiles took a moment to contemplate that. Thinking back it did seem very odd for the senior boy to take such an interest in a lame junior who couldn’t play lacrosse to save his life. Oh well such was Stiles’ life.

“Go on.”

“Right, well I started seeing Drew. Is seeing the right word? I don’t think so, we were making out and stuff when no one else was around. I don’t really feel like that counts. Anywho…”

As Stiles thinks back on the first time Drew was rough with him, his breathing shallows and his heart starts to race. He licks his lips and starts again.

“We uh, well, things were getting, uh, hot and heavy?” Stiles looks up at Derek to see his reaction, but the guy’s face is a blank canvas. He’s grateful for it.

“He wanted me to, uh…” Stiles wipes away the tears that are starting to form in his eyes and rubs his hands over his face.

“It’s okay, Stiles. It’s okay.” Derek says quietly and places a hand on Stiles’ forearm, gripping firmly, comforting but not suffocating. “You said no?” he guesses correctly. Stiles nods; letting out a teary exhalation. “Alright, then what happened?”

“He tried to anyway…” Stiles’ voice has dropped to barely a whisper. Suddenly he’s being pulled up and Derek is wrapping his arms around him. _Not really typical student/counselor behaviour, but I can get behind it._ Derek is warm against Stiles and he pushes into the contact. One of Derek’s hands is holding Stiles’ head against his muscled chest and the other is running calming circles on his back.

It’s in this total stranger’s calming embrace that Stiles finally breaks; lets loose the floodgates. Stiles is muttering nonsense into Derek while he continues to hold Stiles steady, like Derek is an anchor while Stiles is a boat trying to stay in one place during a storm.

After several minutes Stiles pulls away from Derek and feels awkward. He’s made a mess of the other guy’s shirt. There’s a big wet patch and the lower half is wrinkled where he held on for dear life.

“Sorry about your shirt, dude.” Stiles says and hiccups from crying so hard. Derek holds him by the arms and smiles a tiny bit.

“It’s not a problem, Stiles.” It seems like Derek can’t decide whether to let go and sit back down or continue to hold onto Stiles semi-protectively. Stiles knows which he’d prefer.

“Are you going to turn him in?” Stiles asks nervously. There’s no way in hell Stiles would feel bad about turning Drew in, but his dad would find out and that would cause all kinds of unnecessary grief and stress. Stiles can’t do that to his dad when he already takes care of so much of that at work. He won’t do it.

“Do you want to turn him in?” Derek looks pensive.

“No, not really,” Stiles shakes his head, “but what am I going to do? I can’t keep letting this shit happen to me.”

“I think I know something that will help.” Derek smiles and leans across his desk for a sheet of paper from the printer and a pen. He folds the paper in half and writes an address and two phone numbers on it and hands it to Stiles. He knows the building, it’s only a block or two from Main Street and empty as far as he knows.

“What’s this for?” Stiles examines the numbers. One is a local landline, he knows the area code, and the other is definitely not.

“That’s the address of my sister’s gym, the phone number there, and my phone number.” Stiles doesn’t miss the way Derek’s face reddens at that last admission, but maybe he’s seeing things. _I did just cry for ten minutes straight._

“Yes and how is that going to help me, exactly?” Stiles wonders aloud and folds the paper away into his pocket.

Derek looks smug as he answers, “Laura’s a black belt. I’ll talk her into giving you some self-defense lessons.”

“Your sister’s a black belt.” Stiles deadpans.

“Yes. Why, is that surprising?” Derek is obviously amused.

“I don’t guess so, no.” Stiles says and hears the bell ring and the sound of students beginning to fill the halls. “I should probably get to class, since I skipped first period and all.”

Derek leans over his desk once again and begins to write something else, “If you don’t have anything to do tonight you should stop by, we’ll both be there. We still have to finish painting,” he hands Stiles a note for the office.

“I’ve got a lacrosse match tonight,” Stiles picks up his bag and worries the edge of the note Derek just wrote him, “or I would.” Derek frowns.

“Stiles, I’m going to give you another piece of advice for today; sometimes we have to cut those things out of our lives that cause us problems.” He pauses and looks at Stiles expectantly. When Stiles doesn’t respond he continues, “Where did your problem start, exactly?”

Stiles has to think about what Derek means for a second before he realizes what Derek is insinuating. Stiles nods and heads for the door, he yells a thank you over his shoulder as he walks into the hallway.

He stops briefly to take a deep breath and notices that Isaac Lahey has stopped a few feet from him. He looks at Stiles oddly before pushing past him into the counseling office. _Probably because I’m looking like a fool with splotchy eyes that just held on to a stranger for ten minutes straight._ _Well whatever, I feel better, so, ha._

Stiles makes his way to the office to hand in the exemption note Derek wrote him. There are still a few other students meandering slowly to class and he really doesn’t feel like staying at school. He thinks about Derek’s advice. It makes sense. Lacrosse was the only reason he had even met Drew, and it was the only plausible excuse for Stiles to keep seeing him.

 _If I quit I’ll hardly ever see him. There won’t be a reason for him to find me. Out of sight out of mind, right?_ So that settles it. Stiles is going to quit lacrosse. It may not solve the problem completely, Stiles knows that, but it will hopefully reduce the amount of times he runs into Drew.

He turns the corner and bumps shoulders with Ethan. Stiles mutters an apology, but then sees an opportunity and takes it. He turns around to grab Ethan by the arm and asks hurriedly.

“Hey, Ethan, can I ask you for a favour?” Ethan looks at him like he’s trying to decide if he knows who Stiles is. Stiles doesn’t take offense. Finally Ethan nods.

“Can you tell Danny to let Coach know I’m quitting the team?” Ethan squints a second before his face lights up as he figures out who Stiles is.

“Yea, Stiles right?” Stiles nods.

“Thanks man, you’ve been a big help.” Stiles salutes Ethan before turning into the office. He hands Derek’s note to the front desk and waits as the secretary writes him another for being late to second period. Note in hand, Stiles heads to class.

 

As Stiles makes his way from class to lunch he’s already feeling much better about life. People nod at him as he passes them and he can’t decide if they’ve always done that and he just didn’t notice before or if it’s some new phenomena brought on by his sudden boosted confidence.

He grabs a tray and heads over to his normal seat. He nods to Erica and Boyd, who are sitting only a few seats away. Erica smiles at him through her messy hair and Boyd blinks slowly, which, whatever, close enough. None of them speak.

Isaac sits down between Stiles and Erica and Boyd a few minutes later. He says hello to Erica and Boyd and gives Stiles the stink eye for the second time that day. Stiles tries to fight the urge but eventually can’t help himself and asks Isaac what he thinks of Derek. Erica turns to face them, clearly intrigued, and Stiles swears that if Boyd had been some sort of weird hybrid dog-human his ears would have perked up at the question.

“What do you mean?” Isaac grates out along with an annoying scrape of his fork across the lunch tray in front of him.

“What do I- Oh my god- I mean what did you think of him? It’s a serious question I know, but it shouldn’t be too hard to process.” Erica giggles a little and scoots closer to hear the conversation. Boyd remains stationary.

Isaac shrugs. “He seemed cool enough.” He fixes a critical eye on Stiles. “Why were you in there so early this morning?”

Stiles leans back, folding his arms. “That’s none of your business.”

Erica chimes in then, voice wavering slightly. “There’s a new counselor?”

Boyd nods. “Mr. Hale,” he answers before either Stiles or Isaac can.

Erica looks a bit worried. “Is he nice?”

Isaac waves his fork in the general direction of Stiles, passing the question to him.

“He was really nice.” Stiles swallows excessively, “to me at least.” He looks to Isaac for confirmation.

“He was nice, Erica.” Isaac smiles a bit, probably to make her feel better.

“I hope so,” she says and looks upward, like she’s remembering something, “Ms. Morrell always made me feel uncomfortable.”

Stiles can see the tension there. No offense to Erica, but she really wasn’t one to get all gussied up while Ms. Morrell probably slept with her face painted on. He definitely knows what it’s like to look at himself getting changed next to guys like Danny and Aiden so yea, he understands. _That has to be pretty weird for Danny right? I mean Aiden looks just like Ethan._ Stiles shakes his head, that’s a whole other topic for some other hormone-filled day.

“I didn’t know you guys talked to her too.” Erica nods, Isaac shrugs, and Boyd breathes more heavily than he was. _Boyd could use some pointers on social interaction, geez._

“Dude!” Stiles exclaims loudly, “does that make us like the messed up version of the Breakfast Club? I mean, we sort of sit together and we all go see the counselor, am I right?”

Boyd hangs his head like he can’t believe this is really his life. Erica bust out laughing. Isaac rolls his eyes. “We’re missing the fifth member, you idiot.”

Stiles shrugs. “It could work.”

Stiles is having the best time he’s had in a long while and slumps when the bell rings to signal that lunch is over. _I think I just made new friends. Huh._ Boyd and Isaac both start to stand, Erica is still watching him though. “Hey, why don’t we all actually sit together next week? It’ll be fun. I mean, this was fun right?”

Erica nods enthusiastically and stands as Stiles does. Isaac shrugs and walks off to dump his tray and Boyd is already halfway across the room by the time Stiles finishes the second question. Stiles sighs.

“I had fun.” Erica smiles, “I’ll sit with you.”

Stiles smiles back at his new friend and takes her tray for her. “Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Derek! Yay angst-ridden hugs! Yay new friends! Yay Laura!
> 
> This chapter is almost double what the others have been. It was going to be longer but it seemed as good a place as any to end and my family won't leave me alone long enough to finish writing, so here we are. 
> 
> Fun fact: One of my counselors in high school was a black belt. He was also like 7 feet tall and had a picture of himself doing the splits in his gi (not the normal in front/behind you splits. Out to the side splits) above his desk. A 12'x15' picture. He would make us be quiet and listen for the humming from the light bulbs. He had two posters on his door. One was a quote from Voltaire and the other said "Come back with chocolate." in this horrible comic sans-esque font. He was a real character.


	5. Stiles

Stiles spent the rest of his three classes trying to decide whether or not to go back to Derek’s office for his official scheduled session time. In the end he decided he might as well. Also because he was curious to know how the guy’s first day had gone.

He was rounding the corner to Derek’s office when he heard him.

“Stiles! Stiles wait up!”

 _Is this for real?_ Stiles turned slowly to watch Scott slide to a halt in front of him, clearly out of breath from running down the hallway.

“Um, yes?” Stiles said and the amount of calm in his own voice was unsettling to hear.

“Dude,” Scott finally looked up from where he had his head hung between his knees, gulping huge lungfuls of air, “Ethan told us at lunch that you’re quitting lacrosse?”

It took everything Stiles had not to push Scott over and start yelling at him in the middle of the hallway. “Yes. I quit,” he squinted down at Scott coldly, “is that a problem, _lovebird.”_  He didn’t care about the amount of venom in his voice. Scott hadn’t spoken to him in nearly two months and the thing that makes him concerned is Stiles quitting lacrosse? _Yea thanks for paying attention to anything worth noticing. Asshole._

Scott looked confused for all of a second before realization hit him. “Hey, I’m just worried about you. Don’t make this an Allison thing.”

“Whatever, Scott. I’ve got a session to get to.” Thoroughly seething, Stiles left Scott standing there.

 

“I cannot fucking believe him!” Stiles shouted as soon as the door closed behind him. Derek flinched at the harsh sound, and Stiles realized he was yelling and continued at a slightly lower volume. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to shout, but really? He hasn’t talked to me in nearly two months and he gets all concerned because I quit a sport I never actually get to fucking play? Yea, A+ there, Scotty.”

Derek nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Stiles dropped his bag to the floor and plopped in the chair across from Derek, letting out a heavy sigh. “No. I want to do something. I need something to do before I start throwing things or something.” Derek nodded again like he knew that feeling.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come back for your scheduled session or not.” Derek smiled slightly, “I see it’s a good thing you did.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Stiles fixed Derek with a venomous stare.  
“Um,” Derek said, clearly taken aback, “I just meant...” He shook his head. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it to, Stiles. I’m sorry.”

Stiles sighed again. Nothing was coming out the way it was supposed to lately. “Sorry dude, I guess I’m just overly sensitive right now.” It wasn’t a lie; he’d made some pretty big changes to his life since the night before when Derek had saved him. He’d trusted the guy enough to let him know a little of his situation. He’d made some new friends, well Erica at least, and he’d quit lacrosse, which was going to free up a considerable amount of his time.

“So you quit lacrosse already?” Derek asked, obviously interested. Stiles nearly smiled. The guy was good at listening, well, better than Stiles was anyway.

“Yea.” Stiles nodded. “Well I quit by proxy. I told Ethan to tell Danny to tell Coach,” Derek looked like he was trying to process that while Stiles continued, “and Scott and Allison sit with them at lunch so I guess that’s how Scott found out. I don’t know why he’s so concerned though.” Stiles frowned.

Derek looked contemplative for a moment. “I’m sure he still cares about you, Stiles. He probably is concerned. Lacrosse was the last thing you two really did together, right?”

Stiles nodded. “I guess.” Derek seemed not to know what to say after that, so Stiles spoke again. “How was your first day?” Derek laughed silently, his chest rising and falling and suddenly Stiles was imagining being held tight there again.

“It was fine Stiles. Just your typical day of high school.”

“Did someone steal your lunch money?”

“I-“ Derek stuttered.

“Did the head cheerleader blow you off again?”

“Stiles-“ Derek grinned, and wow, that was a magical sight.

“Get thrown in a locker?”

“No, Stiles, none of those things happened.” Derek laughed in earnest. Stiles chest felt a little warm at the thought that he’d make him laugh so hard.

“Erica was worried about meeting you. You were nice to her, right?” Stiles asked, legitimately concerned about the girl who’d suddenly become his one and only friend. And wow that was a depressing thought.

“Our session went well. How did you know she was a patie—student of mine?” Derek corrected himself with a little shake of his head.

“We sit together at lunch now. She’s sort of my best friend, I guess?” Derek nodded.

“You two _would_ get along.” Stiles narrowed his eyes, but Derek continued, “Are you planning to come to the gym tonight?” Stiles thought Derek sounded a little too hopeful, perhaps.

“Well, I’ll have to explain to my dad why he doesn’t have to go to the game,” Stiles put up one finger, “that I quit lacrosse altogether,” he put up another finger, “and why I’m suddenly interested in taking self defense classes from the new counselors recently moved back to town black belt sister.” Stiles quirked his head to the side. “So that’s a ‘Maybe we’ll see how it goes,’ from me.”

Derek nodded understandingly. “Do you want to go ahead and head home so you can get started on that?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Stiles chuckled, not actually offended.

“Well if you leave I get to go home and take off these ridiculously uncomfortable work appropriate clothes. So maybe a little.” Derek smirked.

“Aw but they make you look so _badass_.” Stiles quipped as he stood and headed for the door. “I may or may not see you later tonight.”

Derek nodded. “I look forward to it, Stiles.”

Stiles wasn’t really sure what to make of that last admission and he tried not to focus on it as he drove home. He failed miserably, of course.

 

His dad isn’t home from his shift when Stiles pulls up to the house. Stiles toes his shoes off by the door and takes a look down the hallway, listening to the creaking of floorboards and shuddering of the heater trying to decide what it should do in the changing season. It’s not like he’s never home alone, but he’s usually not home at this time of day and it throws him off balance, making him feel out of place.

He makes his way upstairs and heads through his bedroom to the adjoining bathroom and washes his face of the day’s struggles and frustrations. There weren’t as many as usual today, but it still feels good to wipe it all away; it’s a psychosomatic habit he’s fallen into since meeting Drew. Stiles lifts his shirt to check how his bruises are healing before heading back into his bedroom and falling into his desk chair.

He checks his emails and deletes a copious amount of spam and shopping offers before surfing around for a little while. He checks his favourite site, the one where he reads stories by aspiring independent authors online, but there haven’t been very many updates since his last reading frenzy so that doesn’t take up much time.

Stiles’ curiosity eventually gets the better of him and he spends the better part of an hour looking up various forms of martial arts. Tai Kwan Do seems much too violent to him, and Tai Chi, while beautiful, doesn’t look like it could help you defend yourself from an abusive…guy.

Stiles escapes into one of his more forgotten as of late fantastical getaway worlds after that. His wrists are starting to hurt from extensive mouse and keyboard movement when his dad gets home. It’s nearly six o’clock.

“Stiles?” He can hear the question in his father’s tone.

“Yea, dad, up here!” Stiles listens to his fathers footsteps on the stairs as he logs out of his fantasy life.

“Don’t you have a match tonight?” His voice is in full Sheriff-mode as he leans against Stiles’ doorframe, arms crossed across his chest. Stiles swivels in his chair to face him.

“Is there a match tonight?” Stiles starts, looking up thoughtfully and he knows it will be annoying to his dad, he just wants to know what’s going on, but Stiles does it anyway. “Yes.”

The Sheriff fixes him with a steady glare. “Stiles…”

“See the thing is, I, uh, kinda quit lacrosse today.” Stiles spins around in his chair slowly, looking at the ceiling instead of his dad’s reaction. He can hear him shuffle his feet when he stands up straight at Stiles’ answer.

“And why did you do that?”

“Hormones? A still developing frontal cortex, hindering my adult decision making capabilities?”

His father just sighs.

“I wasn’t having any fun. I didn’t make any friends on the team, I never got to play, so what was the point of staying on?”

The Sheriff settles back against the doorframe. “So you’re just going to sulk around the house alone now?”

“That _is_ an option.”

“No, it’s not. You need something to do, or you’ll go crazy.” He sighs, “Or you’ll drive me crazy.”

“I could be a valuable member of your crime solving force, dad, we’ve discussed this.” Stiles pokes fun at the old standby.

His dad huffs out a laugh. “When you just admitted that you do not possess a fully developed frontal cortex? Not likely.”

“Damn.”

“Language…” his dad says more out of habit than anything else. Both stay quiet a moment while Stiles musters the courage to ask about going to the gym to meet with Derek and Laura. His father turns to leave.

“Actually dad, I was uh, I was wondering about maybe taking up martial arts.” Stiles does a typical karate chop to emphasise his point. His father stares at him with a smirk for a minute.

“You want to take up martial arts?” He asks slowly.

“Yea, I mean why not?” Stiles chews on his bottom lip.

“Because there’s nowhere to learn around here, first off.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow and his voice raises at least an octave. “See the thing _is…_ that there kinda _is_ a place around here.” The Sheriff looks skeptical. “Where?”

Stiles rattles off the address Derek wrote down for him. “And where did you hear about this place?”

“There was a flyer on one of the bulletin boards at school.” Stiles quickly lies. “It even said the first month of instruction is totally free, since it’s new and all.” He certainly hoped Laura was generous, since he’d told the Sheriff, the man in the know, who would of course double check.

His dad sighed and shook his head a little. “And when do you want to start this?” Stiles checked the clock on his computer. 6:20. “In like, forty minutes, or so.”

“Fine.” The Sheriff walked backstairs while Stiles yelled at least forty-two “thank you”s and “You’re awesome”s down after him.

Stiles spun around in his desk chair, arms raised, head banging and flailing for the better part of a minute before he realized he didn’t know what to expect at all and got extremely nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been nearly around two weeks, but look I'm still alive and kicking! I got the opportunity to go visit with my family who live 6 hours away. I've started working again, so my time to write is cut. And then last week my laptop started to flop out and I had already ordered my new desktop so I waited until it came in to write again. Excuses excuses, I know. I hope you'll stick with me though! 
> 
> I'm really curious as to where you guys want this story to go. Stop by roughnscruff.tumblr.com and we can talk about it or just scream about everything together.


	6. Stiles/Derek

Stiles parked the Jeep across the street from the building the gym was a part of. It was in the middle section of a building that stretched the length of the block. He could see into it, all of it, actually. The front wall was almost entirely glass and treadmills lined it. He could make out a figure moving around inside through the treadmills. He took a deep breath and hopped out of the Jeep and crossed the street. He stopped at the door, looking at his feet, unsure.

Then the door swung inward and Derek was smiling at him when he looked up.

“Hey, Stiles.” Derek was in a tank top, blue and white lines striping across it, and gym shorts, barefoot.

“Um,” Stiles muttered, brain useless against the onslaught of Derek’s appearance.

“Laura will be back in a couple of minutes,” Derek lead Stiles around the back of the counter to the right of the door, “We ran out of paint so she went to have more made.”

Stiles finally tore his eyes away from Derek’s back when he stopped and quickly averted his gaze outward to take in the gym. Along the right wall from the entrance was the front counter with a small office room behind it. Beside that was a small hall and stairwell with a sign reading “Off Limits.” There was then a women’s and a men’s restroom. In the corner of the right and back wall was the men’s and women’s locker room doors; it looked as though the men’s fit into the corner of the building while the women’s ran half the length of the back wall.

Another hall sat about halfway through the back wall with an exit sign above it and another room rested beside that. Most of the left and front corner and middle of the main room was sunken about a foot into the ground and housed the gym equipment itself, so there was a L-shaped walkway along the right and back wall. The whole main room was painted an icy blue, the perfect colour really, it could be energizing or calming. Stiles thought it was a pretty clever set up for such a small space of probably only 3,000 square feet in all.

“Cool set up.” Stiles swallowed loudly.

Derek ran a hand up the back of his head, making the very back stick up just a little. “Yea, Laura designed it herself, it’s really efficient and ergonomic, or at least that’s what she claims.” He rolled his eyes and Stiles eased just a bit.

_This isn’t weird. We’re talking about normal things. He invited me so I could learn to protect myself, that’s what good therapists do, right? Give you the skills you need to succeed._

“Is that back room what needs to be painted? I mean, obviously this is all done.” Stiles quirked his head toward the back left corner. Derek’s eyes squinted ever so slightly as he answered.

“Actually we’re finishing up the apartment.” Derek pointed up, and yea, that made sense. It’s a two-story building so of course they would use all the extra space as living quarters. It wouldn’t be efficient if they didn’t and from what Derek had just said Laura was a stickler for efficiency.

“Oh.”

“Want to go up and see it?” Derek seemed less sure as he asked, no doubt conscious of the fact that he was inviting a student into his apartment. Stiles was trying his damnedest not to mess up this one positive thing that had appeared in his life, so he nodded with assurance and followed Derek up the stairs with what he hoped was a calm and collected demeanor. _No funny business, Stilinski._

 

Derek led Stiles up the stairs, the pads of his feet sticking just a little with every step up the newly finished hardwood. He knew this was probably crossing the line of counselor/student relations, but he felt like he needed to do this for Stiles. No one had pulled him away from Kate when it mattered most.

That was the most perspective changing realization; when his classmates, during their practice group sessions together, had made the point that his relationship with her had been abusive from the beginning. Maybe Stiles’ situation wasn’t exactly the same, physical abuse versus sugarcoated power manipulation, but Derek felt compelled to intervene in the most direct way possible. Derek could smell Stiles’ emotions: nervousness (hell he could _see_ that,) uncertainty, and the faintest hint of arousal, especially now. Derek had inserted himself into the equation as the solution and he would pay the price eventually, he knew.

 

Stiles followed Derek up the stairs and decided he was very thankful for clothes with no shape of their own as Derek’s gym shorts left little to the imagination and stopped short of Derek’s knees by a few blessed inches, revealing the dark hair on his thighs and _dammit Stiles pull yourself together._

At the top of the stairs was a tiny landing and a door, which Derek pushed open and held for Stiles. “Bienvenida a la Casa de Hale.”

Stiles stopped in the doorframe and stared at Derek. “Really, Derek?” He had the worst accent Stiles had ever heard, and he’d heard people pronounce “gracias,” “grassy ass.”

Derek didn’t seem to mind and put his hand in the middle of Stiles’ back to push him inside, leaving the door open, because yea. _He’s a teacher, doof._

The apartment was much smaller than the gym downstairs, although Derek explained it could be expanded to fill the entire space if the need arose and Stiles wondered why anyone would ever need that much space.

The majority of the apartment was open: living room, kitchen, and an office area all flowed together much more easily than Stiles would have imagined. Most of the furniture was pushed to the middle of the room with plastic covering it. Derek explained the room to the right was his and the room to the left was Laura’s; they each had a en suite bathroom, and Derek’s was huge, as was his bed, and probably really comfortable by the look of it. They didn’t linger there though.

Half of the room was a nice pale yellow and the rest was still the off white of drywall. “We didn’t realize we’d need so much paint. We figured since we were painting on drywall it would only take one coat.” Derek shrugged plastic off the couch in the middle of the room and they sat down to wait for Laura. Derek didn’t feel the need to make small talk, and Stiles was fine to sit and watch him brush the hair on his arms one way and then the other. Stiles sank into the corner between the armrest and back of the couch and watched Derek quietly, which was weird. Derek seemed to notice a few minutes after Stiles had gone still, watching him.

“Are you nervous?” Derek asked, eyes blinking up to watch Stiles, who had closed his eyes and had an arm across his stomach and the other strewn along the arm of the couch. Stiles grunted.

“No.” Stiles let out a quick breath, a silent laugh. “I’m fucking mellow.” When he opened one eye to chance a look at Derek he had a sort of tender smirk across his face. “What?” Stiles asked, lifting his head up.

Derek blushed, only for a second, but Stiles knew he did. “It’s a nice change of pace, isn’t it?”

Stiles smiled as Laura walked through the door, holding a can of paint under each arm. She turned to Stiles first and then Derek, offering a sentence to each.

“Nice to meet you, Stiles. Alright bitch, let’s get painting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was writing exclusively from Stiles' POV at the start of this but then Derek grabbed the mic in this chapter and wouldn't give it back until he was finished, so maybe that will happen again. It's ridiculously hard to write this careful crush/admiration/mutual respect stage Stiles and Derek have going on right now. Derek's so fun to write though because his goals are the same, protecting people, but the way he thinks and communicates in my universe is so changed after going through the counseling courses.
> 
> I'm glad you guys are sticking with me. I promised you guys (to myself) that if I finished my Stats homework then I could finish this chapter. Hopefully I'll have enough time away from course work to keep pretty well updated.
> 
> Thanks for all the love so far! Wolf hugs and beard burn to all of you. ;)


	7. Stiles/Derek

_That’s one way to make an entrance._

Stiles stood from the couch and his relaxed position like a jack in the box. Derek rose more slowly beside him. “Is that any way to act around guests, Laura?” Derek asked.

“Probably not,” Laura shrugged, “but he’s not a guest is he? He’s a student…” And wow, Laura’s smirk and twinkly eyes were extremely intimidating. Along that line of thought, Laura was extremely intimidating in a number of ways. She was a bombshell, sans high heels add sneakers, but a certified looker nonetheless. She was also not going to take any shit from anyone, and that was blatantly apparent in the way she held herself.

“Laura.” Derek chided coolly.

“Derek…You’re so whiny sometimes. I won’t, like, beat him up or anything!” Laura said flippantly, dropping the paint cans next to the pans and rollers that were already sitting on the floor, paint beginning to dry in the spongy rollers.

Derek froze and Stiles’ jaw dropped open. He quickly caught himself and glanced at Derek. He had his eyes closed and was breathing very heavily, fists at his side and shoulders tense.

Laura seemed to sense the change in mood and turned around as she rose from setting the cans down. She looked between Stiles’ blushed features and Derek’s now slowly shaking frame and her face formed one big _Oh._

“Oh shit. Stiles, I-“ Stiles waved her off, it made sense that Derek hadn’t told her why he wanted lessons, counselor-patient confidentiality. Derek slowly opened his eyes and walked very slowly into his bedroom. “I’ll be back in a second.” He stated very matter of fact and closed the door behind him.

Laura looked from the door to Stiles and in an instant she was beside him. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, he didn’t tell me. I’m so sorry.” She kept going on and rubbing Stiles’ shoulder. “It’s fine Laura, I just assumed he told you, but of course he didn’t because that would break confidentiality. I’m not mad at you.” Stiles then proceeded to tell Laura the gist of his situation: no best friend, secret boyfriend, manhandling sexual advances, refusal, and beating. He explained it to her coldly and clinically, sparing himself the trauma going into detail would likely bring on.

 -

 _Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shitshitshit._ Derek paced back and forth in front of his bed, internally groaning and rubbing his hands across his stubble. He was suddenly wracked by the thought that this was a horrible idea and he was going to hurt Stiles even more than he had already been hurt. _I’m twenty-one. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Damn it. What if I mess him up? What if I mess them all up. Shit. Shit…Fuck._ He stopped pacing as he listened to Stiles explain to Laura the situation. _He’s not mad. He’s not mad!_

- 

Derek emerged from his room then, noticeably trying to seem like everything was fine, and fuck that, Stiles was going to ask him about his mini-freak out later. “Everything okay, Derek?” he asked in what he hoped was a, _I want to talk about what just happened_ _later_ voice.

“I’m fine, Stiles.” Derek nodded. Laura rocked back on her heels and clapped her hands together in front of her.

“Right…Well let’s get started, shall we?” She waved a hand at the rollers and paint. “Stiles, our first lesson will be learning to take orders.” Stiles swore Derek growled at that. “Yea, no, what I mean is, your first lesson is learning hard work and patience! Yea. Alright!”

She placed a roller in Stiles’ hand and they set out to work.

 

“So Stiles, have you got a job?” Laura asked, taking a step back to survey the last patch of wall for any spots they may have missed.

Stiles laughed and shook his head, “No, why do you ask?”

“Do you want one?” Laura looked between Stiles and Derek, waiting for an answer. Stiles looked to Derek, who just shrugged and looked about as wary as Stiles felt.

“Well, what do you have in mind?” He asked cautiously. It would be awesome to have a job, no doubt about that, but he _was_ a little worried about what Laura might expect him to do. There was _no_ way she was going to get him in some ridiculous costume dancing in the street as advertisement, that was for sure.

“Hey, don’t give me that sort of look,” Laura chuckled and dabbed Stiles on the nose with the end of her paintbrush. Stiles went cross-eyed and continued to give her that sort of look. Laura continued unphased, “I need someone to watch the front at night and some on the weekends. I mean, I’ll need a break every once in awhile and Derek is on call at the hospitals psych ward as a consult, so I can’t always count on him to be available, but you. I like you, Stilinski, and I bet you’d bring in the ladies!” She gave him a cheesy wink.

“I don’t know that I’d really be much of a chick magnet...” Stiles sighed and looked at Derek, who had maintained a rather blank expression thus far. “What do you think?” he asked him.

“Me?” Derek asked as he wiped paint from his hands onto a rag. “I think it sounds fine.” He walked into the kitchen and poured three glasses of water before saying anything else. Laura gave him a strange look that Stiles couldn’t decipher before Derek came back and handed them their own glasses.

“Actually it’s a pretty good idea.” Derek finally finished and sat on the couch. Laura joined him and they sat and watched as Stiles debated in his head. _Will dad even let me have a job? I mean, I’m not on the lacrosse team anymore, what else am I going to do with my time? He’ll probably be pretty proud, actually._

“Yea,” Stiles looked up and smiled. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“Oh good!” Laura hopped up and hugged him sans hand to keep paint off his shirt. “Why don’t you come in tomorrow sometime and I’ll show you how everything works. No need to set a time; at least one of us will be around all day. We won’t actually officially open until Monday, so you’ve got a day to prepare before you enter the workforce, Mr. Stilinski!” She finally released Stiles and spun around excitedly. “This is going to be so good. I just know it!”

Stiles smiled and looked to Derek, who had kept his very controlled expression throughout the whole conversation, though he did grin a tiny bit.

 

When Stiles got home that night he had a message from Erica on Skype.

**Hey Stiiiiiiles!!!! ;) 9:47**

It was only 10:30, so he took a quick shower and got ready for bed before replying.

_Hey Erica! 11:04_

**Stiles! Where have you been????  11:04**

_I was helping the Hales paint and getting a job, oddly enough. 11:05_

**WHATTTT?? You were over at Mr. HALES??? 11:05**

_Um, yea, I’m kinda taking self-defense classes with his sister. She’s like a black belt. 11:06_

**WHOOAA that’s so cool!!!!! I hope I get to meet her! 11:07**

_Maybe you will when you come visit me at work. 11:08_

**You got a job with her?? 11:08**

_Yea, she owns the new gym in town. Doesn’t open until Monday though. It’s pretty nice. 11:09_

**Cool! Well I’ll see you on Monday lunch buddy! :)  Goodnight Stilinski! 11:10**

_Alright! See you then! 11:11_

Stiles set his status back to “Away” and crawled into bed, checking it for any text messages before plugging it in and doing a double take when he had one from a number he only slightly recognized.

_It really is a good idea. Goodnight, Stiles. 10:47_

Stiles smiled as he saved the number and curled into his sheets and drifted off quickly, contentedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo, I wrote another chapter finally! This semester was **crazy**. I barely had time to breath around all the work I had and I'm _**so**_ sorry that all of you had to suffer through my absence in writing. I love you all though and finals start this week so I'll have much more time after they're all said and done. Also I have my own place now so I can write whenever I want! :) Thanks for putting up with me!


	8. Stiles/Laura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys.

“Dad, listen! It’s a good idea! You know the Hale’s! They’re good people, and I’m going to go crazy if I stay at home all the time!”

“You didn’t even ask my opinion before you accepted though!” Stiles knows his dad uses his Sheriff voice when he’s feeling insecure, but he’d never admit that to him.

“Dad, I’m _sorry!_ I know I should have asked you first, but I thought you’d be _proud_ that I got a job!” His father stops pacing and rubs a hand over his face. Stiles tries not to think about how Derek makes that same move when he’s frustrated, and then Stiles tries not to think about how he _already_ knows that about Derek. Whatever, he’s an observant kid.

“I- I am proud, son,” the Sheriff sighs and wraps Stiles in a tight hug. “But you growing up scares the shit out of me.”

Stiles rubs a fist in circles across his dad’s back. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, son.”

 

Stiles spends a good three or four hours with Laura that afternoon. She shows him around the gym and how to work all the different machines in depth. They spend around an hour in the sparing room working on his stance, and once Laura is convinced he’ll need another session or two not to fall over just from walking she gives him a key, shows him where the spare key to the apartment is, and then lets him go.

He wonders where Derek is the whole time he’s there; whether he’s just upstairs, or if he’s off doing something else. He hopes he’ll run into him as he walks out the door, or on the drive back home, but neither of those happen.

 

Stiles spends most of the night online, chatting with his far-off friends and watching cat videos until a Skype call comes through from Drew.

Stiles freezes in place, staring at the screen until the call stops. He thinks about possibly going to the coffee shop in town so he won’t be alone, but it’s already late and it’ll be closed by the time he gets there. He thinks about texting Derek, but decides against it in the middle of the night, figuring he’s already asleep. Derek seems like the type to go to bed relatively early.

**I know you’re there. It says online 10:48**

**Come on, don’t you miss this? 10:53**

**Going to hide like the little bitch you are, huh? Gonna send that dude in the camaro after me again? 11:01**

**Whatever. You’ll come back when you get desperate enough. Later BITCH. 11:07**

Stiles falls asleep with the covers over his head and his phone clutched in one hand.

 

When he wakes up on Sunday Stiles walks to his computer and turns it off. He’s not dealing with any of that today. After listening to Drew’s messages ping at him as he lay in bed he needed a day to himself. He spends the majority of the morning sipping coffee and watching reality TV reruns.

Around noon he eats a turkey sandwich and makes oatmeal raisin cookies; healthy enough that his dad can eat some when he gets off work, but still sweet enough to satisfy that craving. They’re one of the few food alternatives Stiles has gotten him to agree on. He leaves a plate of the cookies on the counter with a note not to eat to many at once and then goes to work on homework. By the time the Sheriff gets home around six Stiles has already gone to bed, more emotionally tired than he realized.

 

Monday is odd.

Stiles passes Isaac on his way to second period and Lahey actually waves at him as he pushes into Derek’s office. It’s a tiny little flick of his wrist, raised no higher than his waist, and a gleam of friendship underneath hooded eyes, like he doesn’t want anyone else to see, but still it’s there. Stiles nods and continues on, unsure of what he thinks about this new development.

At lunch he and Erica talk about their favourite Youtubers while Boyd looks bored to death and Isaac never takes his eyes of either of them.

“-but like I was saying, his original material was good, but he’s only _recently_ gotten weird.” Stiles objects, and Erica looks skeptical.

“He was always weird Stiles, just admit it, besides LLL is nothing without Kyle.” Erica rolls her fork between her finger and thumb and levels a look at him like the conversation is over.

“…I like Pewdiepie.” Stiles, Erica and even Boyd all turn simultaneously to stare at Isaac, who just shrugs it off.

“What? He’s a nice guy, does a lot of charity stuff.” Isaac drops his gaze back to his uneaten broccoli and Stiles can’t help but smile at that. _Isaac’s the kind of guy that gets into charity work, who would’ve thought?_

Boyd decides to share a story from the ice rink involving a little boy, a lot of spinning and puke. Stiles, Erica, and Isaac all leave the lunchroom feeling unwell.

 

“Stiles, how was the rest of your weekend?” Derek smiles as Stiles sits down across from him. _Put on the blinders man, I forgot my sunglasses this morning._

“It was...okay.” Stiles says as the puts his leg up and starts bouncing his foot off his knee, fingers fidgeting with his shoe strings. “What about you?”

“You don’t sound like you had an _okay_ weekend, what’s the matter, Stiles?” Derek leans forward in his stupid squeaky leather chair that is _so_ typical of a counseling office.

“Where were you this weekend? I didn’t see you at the gym.” Stiles deflects and glances out the window, trying his damnedest not to blush.

“I had some matters to attend to,” Derek answers in a very cautious tone. “If you don’t want to talk today we can always cut short.” It sounds like a question coming out of Derek’s lips, instead of a statement and that pisses Stiles off for some reason.

“Yea, sounds great, I’ll just go then.” Stiles nearly spits and grabs his bag, eyes on the door. He can hear Derek sigh as the door closes and that only pisses him off more.

 

“Whoa there, buddy.” Laura says as she comes downstairs from the apartment. She takes in Stiles, sweaty, red-faced and huffing while the punching bag swings minutely in front of him. “What’s up?”

Stiles rolls his neck and shoulders and stops the bag from swinging by plopping his forehead against it. “It’s nothing, Laura, just working out.”

Laura laughs lightly and it almost sounds nervous. “Yea, you’ve definitely got some pent up anger in there. Why don’t you give the bag a rest, you’re knuckles look pretty busted.” She approaches Stiles slowly and takes hold of one of his wrists, turning it too look at his bleeding knuckles. “Come one, tell Auntie Laura all about it.”

 

“I don’t know why! He just pissed me off…” Stiles finishes more quietly, scaring himself as his yelling echoes back and forth in the locker room while Laura bandages his hands. She makes a _tsk_ ing sound and pats him on the shoulder.

“Alright buddy, I’m going to give you some advice.” Laura says as she adjusts her pony-tail. “Derek, is…complicated. Sometimes he gives off the wrong vibe when he _really_ isn’t meaning too.”

“It’s nothing like—“ Stiles starts to protest, but Laura holds up a hand.

“Also, he’s actually quite sensitive and he over thinks everything, so if he doesn’t give you an answer it’s because he doesn’t _have_ his best answer for you yet.”

Stiles nods. “Fine. You mind if I go home early today?”

Laura pats him on the shoulder and cocks her head toward the door. “Go on and get out of here. Doesn’t look we’re going to be busy this first week anyway.”

“Thanks Laura, for everything. I don’t even know for half of what yet, but it can’t hurt to get a head start.” Stiles smiles slightly and walks out of the door.

 

“Derek Hale what the hell did you do?” Laura chides, knowing he could hear their whole conversation from his room upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for everything else in my life getting in the way of this fic. I promise I'll make it marginally better than "meh" if you continue to give me the benefit of a doubt and keep trudging along with me. Much love.


	9. Stiles

Wednesday is when shit really starts to hit the fan.

Stiles is on his way to the bathroom during second period, mostly because he’s bored, when he sees Drew walking down the hallway toward him. It’s already to late to turn tail and head the other way, and Stiles knows it.

“Stilinksi… You know I miss that sweet little mouth of yours.” Drew snears and picks up his pace, closing the gap between them in a few annoyingly graceful strides. “You never got back to me this weekend.” Stiles cringes as Drew trails a finger lightly against his cheek and tries not to pull away; that would only make it worse.

“Yea about that…” Stiles starts timidly.

“It’s because he was with me.”

Drew turns around sharply and glares at the source of the strong voice, nearly right behind him, and Stiles can’t believe what’s happening.

Isaac wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulder and pulls him a few steps back, out of Drew’s reach. “Why don’t you leave my boyfriend here alone, Drew, was it?” Isaac rolls his eyes like the name doesn’t really matter to him.

Drew shoves his hands into his pockets and scoffs, “Yea, alright, whatever…losers,” before he turns and walks away from them.

Isaac doesn’t take his arm off Stiles’ shoulder even after Drew is around the corner and gone. Stiles looks up at him sideways and is really surprised by how much taller he seems from this close up.

“You okay?” Isaac asks and squeezes Stiles’ shoulder lightly.

“Um, yea, I think.” Stiles replies, very unsure of when his arm snaked around Isaac’s waist.

Isaac detaches himself from Stiles slowly and turns to walk away “If you need anything else, you just let me know. Alright babe?” And then he _fucking_ _winks._

 

Stiles spends his remaining classes until lunch contemplating how much he liked the feel of Isaac’s arm around his shoulder and his light warmth next to him. When he walks into the lunchroom he’s alarmed to see no Erica or Boyd at the table and sits down by himself.

He scans the lunchroom for a few minutes and watches Scott and Allison, laughing happily beside each other. Stiles doesn’t like the sour feeling he gets in his stomach when he watches them, so he looks around the room and pointedly not in their direction again. He wants Scott to be happy, just not necessarily at the loss of his best friend.

Stiles focuses back in when someone right across the table blocks his view. “You okay? You were kind of zoned out.” Isaac quirks his lips up a bit at the ends and opens his chocolate milk.

“Oh. Yea…Sorry.” Stiles apologises and smiles lightly. “Thanks for that, back there… You know.”

Isaac smiles and eats one of Stiles’ fries. “Don’t worry about it.” Isaac leans forward and his knees bump against Stiles’ underneath the table and that _does not do things to Stiles, no it does not, because Stiles does not have a thing for legs. No he does not._ “Is he why you’re always so nervous?” Isaac nudges Stiles’ knee encouragingly.

Stiles blushes a bit and ducks his head. “Yea, he’s an ass.”

“Has he hurt you?” Isaac asks, his voice suddenly very serious.

Stiles looks up slowly and the determination in Isaac’s eyes is frightening. He doesn’t say anything and looks past Isaac, only to lock eyes with Lydia across the room briefly before she looks back to her nails like locking eyes wasn’t totally weird.

“If he touches you again,” Isaac covers Stiles’ hand lightly with his own and then continues, “I’ll _destroy_ him.”

Stiles nods and doesn’t make Isaac move his hand.

 

Boyd and Erica never showed up for lunch and when Stiles headed to Derek’s office afterward he found an “Away from the Office” posted on the door. _Probably for the best anyway, I’m sure he’s not too happy with me._

Neither Derek nor Laura were at the gym the whole time Stiles was there, and he folded the few towels and swept most of the floor while their two or three clients came and lifted weights. All three guys asked about Laura, and Stiles decided they probably weren’t at the Hale’s gym strictly for the exercise.

That night Stiles tries to find Isaac on Facebook, but there’s no trace of him anywhere. Frustrated after a quick sweep of most other sites turned up negative for one Isaac Lahey, Stiles opened Skype and waited most of the night for Erica to log in. Around 11 he finally gave up and laid down to try and get some sleep.

No matter what Stiles tried, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. His mind kept going back to Erica and Boyd, where they’d been, where Derek and Laura had been. Lydia’s look at lunch was what kept him up the longest though.

 

Thursday was also odd. Erica and Boyd were both absent and Derek was once again out of the office, on a consultation this time.

Stiles spent all of lunch talking with Isaac and noticing things he would never have imagined he’d get the opportunity to notice, like the colour of his eyes, the way he popped his knuckles with a side twist instead of the standard up and down motion, and the way certain patches of his skin were yellowed like he’d been bruised. _I wonder if that’s why he was so defensive of me yesterday…_

Becoming friends with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd had never really been on his high school itinerary, but he wasn’t really complaining about it either.

 

Stiles nearly has a heart attack as he’s stuffing his science book into his locker before heading to the gym, his arms flailing in a multitude of directions when he closes the door and Lydia Martin is standing directly behind it.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” Stiles shouts and several people walking by look at him oddly.

Lydia tilts her head ever so slightly with a terrifyingly smug look on her face. “You’re Stiles, right?” she asks, and her eyes look like they’re staring into Stiles’ soul. “Scott’s old friend.” The second part isn’t a question.

Stiles backs up until he hits the lockers but Lydia takes another step forward and leans in, making the distance between them less than ever. It really makes Stiles uncomfortable, even though he used to dream about being given the chance to be this close to Lydia Martin. “Uh, yea, why?”

“You should be careful, Stiles.” Lydia stares at him for a second too long and then flips her hair as she turns on heel and walks away.

 

_What. The. Hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days? What is this blasphemy?! Haha. Stop by and say hi sometime on tumblr. [Roughnscruff.](http://roughnscruff.tumblr.com)


	10. Stiles/Derek

It’s about 4:30 Friday afternoon and Stiles is on his way to pick up Isaac. So they can hang out. At the gym. So like, no one else will know.

 

After completely missing school for three days in a row neither of them had been surprised at all when Boyd and Erica were once again absent. They were worried about them, sure, but they had also been caught up in one another.

Isaac was actually hilarious. Not in the normal sense, but his quips were so off-handed that Stiles couldn’t help but smile at them. Since Wednesday, they’ve been as inseparable as two people who only see each other during lunch can be.

Stiles had crashed into the lunchroom and hopped up and down impatiently waiting in line while Isaac pointed at random students’ bad hair and clothes and rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly enough that Stiles could actually hear Isaac from where he stood in line.

A few had turned and stared at Isaac and Stiles lost it, watching Isaac blush the tiniest bit.

 

“We should hang out tonight.” Stiles jabbed at Isaac’s untouched apples, trying to spear one as they slid around the tray in their own juice.

“Yea? What do you have in mind?” Isaac lifted an eyebrow quizzically.

“I thought maybe you could come keep me company at work tonight. There’s a home game, so most people in town will probably be there. It’ll probably be quiet at the gym and I will definitely go crazy in that big room all by myself. Probably get ambitious and die underneath a weight bench or...” Stiles realized he was stammering and stopped.

“Yea, I can come hang out.” Isaac was grinning at Stiles like an idiot. “For safety reasons, of course.” He appended quickly.

“Jerk.” Stiles tried to kick Isaac underneath the table but the other boy caught Stiles’ leg with his own and winked.

Stiles did not blush. _He did not._

“You’ll have to pick me up though; after school. I don’t have a ride.” Isaac let go of Stiles’ leg, though Stiles didn’t move it back to his side of the table.

“Okay. Sounds like a date.” _Shit._ “Er…Deal. A deal. Yep.”

Isaac just smiled.

 

\---

 

“Laura, we need to do this now.” Derek’s voice is grim, even to his own ears, but this is desperate, and the situation warrants it.

“Shit, Derek, I know. Jesus just… I’ve never done it okay? You know that.” Laura takes a deep breath and walks out of the hospital bathroom and Derek follows her.

“Boyd, we can help Erica, but we need you to be a distraction. Can you do that?” Derek asks, feeling much much too young for everything.

Boyd nods immediately. “Anything.” 

 

\---

 

The car ride from Isaac’s to the gym feels sort of awkward. But like, in a good way. Stiles can feel Isaac’s eyes on him every few seconds and as much as he wants to look back at Isaac to assess his gaze Stiles does have to drive, so. Awkward. But Stiles can deal with that.

All of the interior lights are off when they arrive, but the front door to the gym swings open when Stiles reaches for the handle. And that’s, well that’s concerning.

“Hello?”

 

\---

 

“Shit Laura, we didn’t lock the fucking door!” Derek hisses as he freezes halfway up the stairs.

“Who is it?” Laura continues up the stairs, not turning around or stopping in the least.

Derek closes his eyes and listens to the two heartbeats. “It’s. _Shit_. It’s Stiles and, I don’t even know, but they seem sort of familiar.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to deflect, baby bro.”

 

\---

 

Derek comes stumbling out of the stairwell in front of Stiles and Isaac, looking flustered as fuck.

“Isaac?” Derek asks at the same time that both Stiles and Isaac ask, “Derek?!”

Stiles has been the Sheriff’s kid nearly his whole life, and before that he was the Deputy’s kid. He knows the signs; Derek is flustered, he obviously wasn’t expecting them to show up, and something is really fucking wrong.

“What’s wrong, what’s happened?” Stiles demands and watches Derek wince.

“Uh, nothing. Just wasn’t expecting you to, uh…” Derek’s words trail off and Stiles tries to peer around him to the left but fakes at the last second and dashes past Derek up the stairs to the right.

“Stiles, wait!”

“Stiles, _shit!_ ”

He isn’t sure which said which, but it doesn’t really matter as he rounds the last turn in the stairs and runs into the apartment.

Derek crashes into him from behind when Stiles stops abruptly, and he can hear Isaacs footsteps halt mere seconds behind them.

Stood in front of them is a big ass wolf. Stiles yells and surges forward at the same time that Derek's arms wrap around his waist and lift him from the floor, his legs kicking wildly as the wolf moves to rip Erica’s arm to shreds.


	11. Stiles

It's Boyd who finally breaks the silence, his footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Hey guys, did it wor- Holy shit..." Boyd stops in the doorway. Stiles only knows this because Derek turns to look at him, and Stiles' feet are still dangling above the floor where Derek has him wrapped in his arms.

"Would you let me down, _please_." Derek seems to have forgotten he was even carrying Stiles from the way he quickly nods his head and sets Stiles down. Isaac steps forward to wrap his arms around Stiles' shoulders and Stiles watches over the taller boy's shoulder as Boyd walks slowly forward into the room.

"Well this is sufficiently awkward. No one leave. I'm going to put on some clothes and then we're having our first pack meeting." Laura's voice seems too calm and human to Stiles, considering that only a minute ago she was a wolf. The same wolf that looked like it was going to rip Erica's arm off. But that didn't happen. Laura had barely even broken Erica's skin (which had already healed) and Erica was sleeping peacefully on the couch.

"Laura, are you _sure_?" Stiles turned around at the sound of Derek's voice wavering ever so slightly. Laura nodded as she pulled her shirt back over her head.

"Yea, baby bro. I think the wolf's out of the woods this time. No turning back now. You're the one that wanted them in the first place, remember?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes at that. Derek wanted us in the first place? Pack meeting?  _Oh hell no._

"You're not changing me." Stiles' voice nearly breaks when he says it. It feels like there's a lump the size of California sitting in his throat.

Derek turns back to Stiles, his face flashing through a mix of emotions that Stiles can't read before it settles on grumpy eyebrows. Isaac unwraps his arms from Stiles and puts some space between them. "What are you talking about Stiles? Derek?" Isaac looks between them as Boyd walks to the couch to sit and lean over Erica, presumably making sure she's alright.

"They're werewolves, Isaac! Or did you not get that?" Stiles snaps. Isaac looks confused for a second and then the situation and Laura's comment about  _their_ first pack meeting seems to catch up, given the look of realisation on his face.

"Oh. Well..." Isaac stammers.

"No one's going to make you accept the Bite, Stiles." Derek's voice is very calm, too calm. Stiles can tell he's slipped into counselor mode.

"Derek didn't want me to offer it to you anyway, Stilinski. Don't worry about it." Laura reemerges from her room, fully clad in sweats. "Although you really have no choice about being in the pack or not. You know about us, so you're one of us." She smiles, though it seems a little sad to Stiles. He doesn't miss the huff Derek let out when she said that he didn't want to offer it to Stiles in the first place.

"I'm taking it." Everyone turns to look at Boyd in unison. "The Bite." He looks at Erica for a moment before looking up again. "I don't want her to go through anything alone ever again." Laura plops down next to him on the couch and pats him on the shoulder.

"Alright big guy, but not for awhile. There's only me and Derek to teach you and watch over you and we've already got one fresh wolf to train. Maybe in a week or two." Boyd nods almost immediately, "Fair enough."

Derek shuts his eyes, lowers his head and lets out a long sigh. Stiles feels the same. He doesn't even know what to think. His life just got so  _fucking weird_ so fucking fast. His boss and his counselor are werewolves. The girl who is quite possibly his closest friend at the moment is now their little werewolf baby, or something, and the most intimidating looking guy in school is a freaking sap romantic. Oh and also Isaac and Derek are giving each other these rude looks from either side of Stiles and  _man_ is all of this giving him a headache.

 

When Erica wakes up they have a long talk about what happened. Erica had a bad seizure and was comatose. Boyd was the one that took her to the hospital and he stayed with her the whole time. Derek had gone by to see if there was anything he could do and to check on Boyd; Derek could smell her dying. Derek reasoned with Laura that the Bite would cure her of the seizures and give her a better quality of life all around, so Laura agreed (she'd always wanted another little sister).

Derek's face when Laura said that pained Stiles so badly he had to look down at his hands.

"So now we're giving you two the option." Laura finished. Boyd began to say something but Laura cut him off. "Boyd I know you've already said yes, but I'm not going to change you for another week or two, depending on how well Erica adjusts. You can still change your mind... Isaac?"

Isaac shuffles where he's sitting next to Stiles and when Stiles looks at him he seems uncomfortable.

"No!" Stiles exclaims. "No, don't you even think about it!"

Derek places a hand on Stiles shoulder from where he stands behind the two boys. "It's his decision, Stiles."

Stiles pushes Derek's hand away. "Yea, and I don't get one? Fuck you, Derek! You can't make decisions for me."

"You said you didn't want it the moment you realised it might be offered." Derek says, speaking calmly.

"Like that matters! You told Laura not to offer it to me. Why?"

"Guys..." Laura tries to intercede and Stiles realises everyone is looking at the two of them. Stiles doesn't even remember standing up and facing Derek, or when they got so close to each other that he can pick out the flecks of random colour in Derek's eyes. Derek must realise the same thing Stiles has because he attempts to take a step back but only knocks into the wall and then looks to either side as if just realising Stiles has put his hands on the wall beside Derek's head. 

_Wait. I just pinned Derek Hale against the wall._

Stiles steps away quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste, but Isaac's hands against his back help to keep him steady.

"So, Laura, will being a werewolf give me beautiful hair like you have?" Erica asks in the middle of all the tension. Stiles can't help but smirk at her.

"No sweetie, I have to condition just like everybody else..." Laura sighs solemnly and Isaac snorts a laugh that sends everyone into a laughing fit like nothing even happened.


End file.
